“Hallowed be Thy Name”

The following is the third of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the Lord’s Prayer and what they tell us about family life.

            Some of the most memorable moments of my life have been the birth of my children.  The scenes and emotions of those days are unlike any other I have experienced.  One particular aspect that stands out is the responsibility of naming the child.  It is the exclusive right of the parents present, and it was one of the times that I felt the weighty significance of how a mother and father uniquely impact a child’s life.  Part of this feeling could be because I was always juggling many possible names in my head!  Not only did my wife Stephanie and I elect to wait to find out if our children were girls or boys, my wife also insisted on seeing the babies first before deciding between a few of the final candidates.  This second factor made me a little more nervous the first time.  After all, I had no idea how pain, medicine, exhaustion, and exuberance might affect our decision in that moment.  Thankfully, things went pretty well, and none of our children ended up with the name Epidural.

             Sometimes names seem insignificant.  Who has not seen and recognized a person’s face but gone blank on his or her name?  Yet, arbitrary as they sometimes are, names are important in our faith.  We are called by name in baptism as we enter the Church for the first time, and there are numerous references in the scriptures to God calling people by name for a specific task.  Our own names being spoken easily elicits our attention.  Just think of how we hear our name being said across the din of a talkative gathering, or how our mothers used our first and middle names to great effect when our behavior was out of line.  We respond to the familiar sound of our names, so it is only natural for God and the Church to use them for sacred purposes.

God’s name above all is holy as this month’s phrase from the Lord’s Prayer reminds us.  Our Jewish ancestors so revered God’s name of Yahweh that they would not even say it and instead spoke other names for God.  In fact, since our human language fails ever to capture the full meaning of who God is, we attribute all sorts of descriptors and additional names to try to describe this infinite mystery.  While we as Catholic-Christians practice the speaking of God’s name a bit differently than our forebears in faith, it is important to remember that God’s name is still sacred and not to be tarnished in flippant speech or cursing.

            The name of Jesus is very important as well.  It literally means “God saves,” so Jesus’ mission was inherent even in his name.  Of course, Mary and Joseph had to submit humbly as they accepted the proclaimed name of Jesus, but when an angel of the Lord tells you what to name a child, it is probably prudent to listen.  We attribute all sorts of other names and titles to Jesus as well for the same reason as when describing God.  Our language fails to capture the entirety of who Christ is and what he came to do.  But it is particularly important for us to treat the name of Jesus with upmost reverence.  As St. Paul reminds the Philippians, “…at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

            As we seek to honor God’s name in our families as well as the names of each other, may we remember the sacred purpose of names.  They identify who someone is, and by association, what that person has contributed to our lives.  It is right for us to name God, the saints, our loved ones, and even our enemies in prayer.  After all, God always responds to our pleas, and every name is sacred to the Creator who called each of us into being.

“Who Art in Heaven”

The following is the second of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the Lord’s Prayer and what they tell us about family life.

            Back in my junior year of high school, I was involved in a curious affair called the junior varsity track meet.  As you might imagine, while I was on the track team to stay in shape, I knew the Olympics were not in my future.  The JV meets were interesting because they often featured athletes filling in for events that were not their specialty.  It was enjoyable in some ways to try a new event without the pressure of needing to place first, and it certainly was entertaining to watch others attempt new things.  Of course, there are some events that can go quite poorly for the untrained novice.  I remember just such a day for my teammate, who I will call “Steve.”  There he was, dutifully pitching in where no one else would as our team’s lone entrant in the 110-meter high hurdles, emphasis on the high.  Steve began well enough, and though there was no threat of his winning the race, he cleared the first five hurdles without event.  But then, disaster struck on number six.  Steve caught his foot on the hurdle and could not regain his balance.  I can close my eyes and still remember him distinctly as he landed face-first on the track below.

            The groan of the crowd was audible, and no one was quite sure of what to do, except for Steve.  He got back up, brushed the rubber pieces from the track off his uniform, and ran towards the next hurdle.  The unfortunate thing was that, because of his first fall, he had little momentum, less track to regain speed, and depleted energy.  You might guess what happened next: another face plant.  At this point, the rest of the runners had finished, and no one would have begrudged Steve to exit the track as he had last place all wrapped up.  He would have none of it.  He ran at hurdles eight, nine, and ten, each time tripping and landing in some sort of painful heap on the track.  Bruised, bleeding, somewhat embarrassed, and a bit triumphant, he stumbled across the finish line to the crowd’s relieved applause.

            I tell this story not to only to dissuade anyone but the best jumpers to avoid the high hurdles, but also I want to consider this month’s phrase of the Lord’s Prayer as it relates to finish lines.  For after we invoke the Father, we describe him as being in heaven.  In many ways, heaven is our finish line.  We came from God in heaven, and it is our ultimate task in life to return to God in the heavenly realms of perfect bliss.  I will be the first to admit that I have often lost sight of this goal, choosing instead to focus solely on temporal matters and neglecting thoughts of my final hoped for destination.  It will not be news to anyone that we all get distracted from this purpose, and the stresses, strains, and needs of married and family life can sometimes exacerbate our lack of attention.

            However, in their best sense, our family relationships are meant to aid one another in reaching our final destination.  Our parents, spouses, children, siblings, and wider family can all be gifts from God in that we learn about God’s love and will for our eternal happiness when these people model it for us.  We also are charged with giving this same gift to others.  What adjustments might be helpful for us in our own relationships as we strive for this noble ideal?

            Much like Steve’s hurdles, we will encounter obstacles on our way.  No Christian life happens without some kind of suffering.  Yet we look to the redemptive suffering of Jesus as a source of hope for how God can transform our difficulties into moments of grace.  Like Steve, we must persevere to the finish line.  Our reward, of course, will be infinitely greater than his, for in heaven we are promised a place of rest, eternal happiness, and the fulfillment of our heart’s deepest desire.  May this promise motivate us to stay the course and reach the finish line.  May we, too, help our loved ones, especially those who are struggling in their lives for whatever reason.  It will truly be a moment of indescribable joy when we are there together at the finish line, saints among the saints.

“Our Father”

The following is the first of twelve monthly reflections about the phrases of the Lord’s Prayer and what they tell us about family life.

            What are the moments in life that bring us true joy?  I am referencing the type of joy that is unhindered by the suffering in our lives, something that we feel deep down inside of ourselves.  It gives us the truest sense of God’s grace in the here and now.  These moments of genuine joy might be seminal events such as graduations, weddings, or other sacramental occasions.  On the other hand, they might be seemingly insignificant moments, not likely to make the news, and yet, they are so personally meaningful that we swell with emotion and marvel in gratitude at God’s generosity.  For me, one such small moment is when I arrive home from work every day.  I open the door and am met with the faces of little boys who appear to be looking at their own personal superhero.  It never gets old to have them smiling from ear to ear, running to meet me, and joyfully exclaiming, “Daddy!”

            I feel badly that my wife does not get to experience this same jubilation as often since she is currently with the children most of the day.  When she is gone, however, the kids realize how chaotic things can get when Mommy is away and are really happy to see her when she returns!  As I reflected upon these little moments of joy, I thought about my prayer life, especially the Lord’s Prayer.  In it Jesus instructs us to call God our Father, and this kind of familiarity is a remarkable concept in how we communicate with God.  It dispels the notion of God being a far-off deity who is powerful yet somewhat impersonal.  Instead, we have a God who desires to be intimately close to us, as close as a parent would be to a child.  It is quite radical to think of an omnipotent God who is ready to embrace us as I embrace my young children running to me at the door after work.

            What does this mean for us as we journey through these days of Advent?  We find ourselves waiting for the Lord at Christmas and the end of time.  This delay can be challenging because it can cause us to doubt God’s desire to be close to us.  Still, we wait in hope as a young child looking out the picture window in expectation of a parent’s return.  Advent builds in anticipation from the liturgical readings to the lighting of additional candles that Lord is indeed coming.

God, too, waits for us at times during this season.  We can get caught up in the busyness of everything we attempt to accomplish, and the danger for us is that Advent is not a very prayerful time at all.  More generally, when we sometimes find ourselves mired in our own sinfulness, God waits longingly for our return and even seeks us out.  It is ultimately up to us, though, to accept reconciliation.  I imagine how hurt today I would be if, when I arrived home from work, no one was there to greet me or was excited to see me.  I suppose I should brace myself for when my children are teenagers!

When our relationship with the Father deteriorates to such a point, intervention is essential.  God certainly does not abandon us and waits with open arms to welcome us back.  We have a chance in these days to take part in the Sacrament of Penance, and this is a wonderful way to mend what is wounded in our relationship with God and others.  Though it can be difficult to make that step to come and admit our guilt, it is to our great benefit to take refuge in the Father’s merciful arms.  Once we do so, God holds us tightly in love once again.

May we have the courage this season to return to the Lord, to call God “Father” once more.  Jesus leads us in addressing God in such a manner.  If we find ourselves hesitating, it may help us to know the longing desire that God has for our return.  It will truly be a moment of joy for our Father when we come running and exclaim once again, “Daddy!

King of the Mountain

            In light of our early snow and frigid temperatures, my mind was a bit preoccupied when I sat to write this month’s reflection.  I decided to run with it and took myself back to a time when snow outside was pure joy to a young boy’s mind.  It did not mean icy roads or shoveling driveways or scraping windshields; rather, it was about potential school cancelation and an adventure land right there in my normally boring front yard.  On those days when the weather pattern and superintendent aligned, I would be outside with the neighborhood kids playing snow-themed games.  If the snow was particularly generous, we would have enough to make a pile of snow that would be quickly dubbed “The Mountain.”  My front yard then became the sight of a game of curious origin and implication, “King of the Mountain,” where we would establish being king by shoving everyone else off the mound into the snow below.  A king’s reign lasted only as long the defense of new attacks was successful.  As I think back and laugh about the folly of such a game, it does give me pause.  Am I still playing this game, albeit in other ways, in the motives of my life?

            As you may be aware, the Solemnity of Christ the King is coming up, and with it comes a time fit for reflection.  This feast day is not simply a pre-Advent warning for us, reminding us, like every store we visit, of how many days are left before Christmas.  No, this feast stands alone for good reason, and it gives us the chance to take stock of where Christ is in the hierarchy of our loves and priorities.  On this day, we proclaim Jesus as king of the entire universe, but it remains an open question as to if he is the king of our hearts, lives, and families.  Because of our free will and Christ’s unwillingness to control his subjects, it is still up to us to accept him as king and give proper homage to him.

            There is certainly a competing list of distractions from this laudable goal.  Who or what are the “kings” in our lives to which we give our time, attention, and resources?  Is it our achievement at work or the power and control we have over others?  What about our signs of social or economic status displayed for all, or at least our neighbors and friends, to see?  Could it be the frequency, quality, or weight of importance we give to our online and technological activities?  Perhaps the pursuits of pleasure, whether actual or distracted daydreaming, control us.  Maybe we even thrive in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction with our lives, never wanting to admit to the grace and blessings all around us.  There are many possibilities, but they all lead us to a need for radical reorientation.  It is precisely for our own good that we must make Christ the king of our hearts and homes, forsaking all other weaker and false idols.

            It is instructive, too, to notice the seemingly foreign characteristics of our proper king.  He is gentle and humble, not seeking to dominate others or gather up as much authority as he possibly can.  He leads by his example as a servant to all, especially to the least and most vulnerable among us.  He does not, like my boyish tactics during “King of the Mountain,” raise himself up by striking others down.  Instead, he is raised up in two very unique and significant ways.  First, he is lifted high on a cross, a symbol of torture and shame, complete with a sign mocking his kingly authority.  He does not allow people’s assumptions of this symbol and his method of death define his reign, though.  Transforming the visuals and meaning of this act, he makes it into something that has now become the scene of our salvation and that we revere every time we pray or come into our churches.  The second way he is raised is by his Father, three days following his death, from the darkness and silence of the tomb.  His status as “first-born of the dead” and the perpetual object of glory, honor, and worship is firmly complete.

            In conclusion, I hope that we take advantage of this upcoming solemnity.  It might mean we need to spend some time in personal reflection, having a family discussion, or a making a trip to confession.  Regardless of how we particularly need to prepare, the opportunity to do so is God’s gift to us.  May it indeed mark for us a reordering of our relationships and priorities so that Christ is the king and first-born of our hearts.         

     

Leaves of Every Shade and Color

            When people list their top reasons for living in the northern part of the country, the weather usually does not make the list.  The “permacloud” that seems to last from now until May might have something to do with it.  Still, we try to spin things in a positive light by saying things like, “I really enjoy that we see four seasons here.”  We casually leave out the fact that winter lasts disproportionately longer that the other three!  No one could deny, however, the days of sheer autumn beauty we witness each year.  We are right in the middle of this time now, and every time I experience it, I find myself simultaneously amazed at the breathtaking views and wistful that they last only a short while. 

            As I was taking a walk on just such a fall day recently, I found myself thinking about the life cycle of a leaf, how it mirrors something in our families.  During the budding phase, there is an excitement of new beginnings and life, but for most of its life, a leaf looks healthy yet unremarkably green.  It is only at the end of its life, as the chlorophyll dissipates, that a leaf exhibits its true and wonderful color.  Regrettably, we only get to enjoy the sight for relatively little time before the leaf falls to the ground. 
            Our lives, too, are filled with excitement and potential during our early days, but once we settle into a rhythm of life, most of our days are unexceptional or even monotonous.  Yet it is towards the end of our lives that time becomes precious as we reshuffle our priorities and have a final chance to show our true selves.  Like the leaves, those people keenly aware of their mortality are the ones who often manifest the most wisdom and perspective. 
            I wonder, though, if those of us stuck in our own normal hectic schedules miss the beauty and wisdom that surrounds us in our family members advanced in years.  How often do we hurry through life without taking stock of God’s grace visible in these persons, who, like the colorful leaves, will not remain with us on earth much longer?  We can certainly all think of instances and stories of the elderly who spend their final days lonely or feeling discarded by the world for a perceived lack of usefulness.  Even as a leaf can no longer provide nutrients to the tree, its color and evidence of a life well lived are gifts all their own.  How might we better honor those who, despite whatever physical or even mental ailments affect them now, have lived good, holy, and fruitful lives? 
            Certainly, the Church makes a concerted effort in this regard.  From the frequent sacramental care provided for the aged or infirm to the celebration of lengthy anniversaries of marriages, ordinations, final religious vows, or birthdays, we acknowledge the dignity of every person and the beauty of each life.  Even the care with which we pray at funerals exhibits that we are, as a Church, consistently committed to honoring those who have, as St. Paul says, “fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith.” 
​            Consequently, it is important that we take our cues from the ministry of the Church and seek to love and respect those who face the end of their earthly days.  We must appreciate the wonder of these lives as they color our world like a crisp and memorable autumn scene.  After all, it would be our loss to neglect noticing such instances of grandeur.  Their beauty foreshadows our ultimate vision of bliss and is a demonstration of the hope that we have in eternal life. 

No Room for Selfishness

       Growing up the second of four children with an older brother merely two years my senior, I saw my fair share of sibling disagreements, heated discussions, and, shall we say, altercations.  It seemed to me that my older brother was responsible for 99 percent of the problems, but I suppose my perspective skewed slightly in my favor.  Naturally, some of our spats happened out of the direct supervision of my parents, but they soon would become loud enough that one or both parents would notice and become involved.  That is when the blame game started.  The goal was a simple one: lay as much blame as possible on the other brother while avoiding a reprimand for oneself.  Readers may not be surprised to hear that a pervasive selfishness dominated these explanations to my parents, and both brothers treated the truth like Dad’s bucket of random nuts and bolts in the garage: you used something when it could help you; otherwise, it never saw the light of day.  Thinking back on these situations now, I realize how our selfishness never got us anywhere worthwhile.  In fact, it often was in the way of the very thing God designed families to share. 

       Selfishness and love are inversely proportional.  As one increases, the other necessarily decreases.  As my brother and I heaped lie upon lie, the love between us barely flickered.  The story is an illustration to me that, in families, there is no room for selfishness.  The more we succeed in banishing it from our homes and relationships, the more love is able to take root and nourish us for whatever challenges life will bring. 

       As I have grown into adulthood and matured, I have tried to limit my selfish tendencies with each passing day.  Every important milestone in family life from marriage to the birth of each of my children has forced me to reexamine the ways in which I still exhibit selfishness.  The temptation is to think I have it all figured out, but then something happens which makes me realize how much I must still progress.  The pursuit of holiness is like that.  The more we give our efforts to it, the more we humbly realize how distant a goal perfect love of God and neighbor is.  Nevertheless, we also trust ever more deeply that God’s grace will be able to one day close the gap. 

       Thinking about this interplay of love and selfishness in the scriptures, two gardens, Eden and Gethsemane, come to mind.  Adam and Eve are faced with the temptation to disobedience by eating the forbidden fruit.  They selfishly become so focused on the one thing they cannot have that they neglect to notice the abundance already given to them.  We see them struggle with the temptation for a moment, but then they submit to the serpent’s poisonous suggestions.  Then, as my brother and I would do, they blame everyone but themselves when God discovers their transgression. 

       When Jesus faces his own garden moment of temptation, it is during a quite serious time.  We see him there, slumped to the ground, sweat pouring out of him, as he contemplates the culminating moments of his earthly mission.  Death, the consequence of that first human sin, is directly before him.  In what is one of the truest moments of Jesus’ human nature, he cries out in prayer, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me.”  It is a somewhat shocking statement if we think about it.  Jesus is asking to avoid going through what he has come to do.  He is praying for an escape from his charge to die on the cross for our sins.  Yet, while Christ truly faced this temptation to selfishness, his next words are quite instructive for us as he continues, “Still, not my will but yours be done.”  He chooses love, banishes selfishness, and continues with this most daunting of tasks. 

       How then, can this apply to us in our lives as families?  I think one thing that is important to realize is that every human being, including Jesus himself, feels drawn to selfishness from time to time.  However, what we do with that temptation makes all the difference.  Had my brother and I been living more closely to the ideal of selfless love, there would not have been anything to lie about in the first place!  Love takes effort, time, and dedication.  May we trust that, after seeing the fruits of Christ’s all encompassing self-gift, being less selfish and more loving is worth all that we give to it.

A Welcoming Face

       First impressions are important.  They give us the chance to convey something to another at the outset of a relationship, and if we squander this opportunity, it can be impossible or at least take long time to get a second chance.  This month’s reflection comes from a recent and quite personal story where someone made a first impression on me.  I should say from the outset that I did clear telling this story with my wife Stephanie!  Anyway, we are expecting our third child very soon.  The temptation with the third, of course, is to assume that each child and accompanying pregnancy will be the same as the last.  This is never true, but it was certainly a surprise and even upsetting when our regular OBGYN told us that something came up and we would need to go see a specialist OB.  Time went slowly then, and it felt like a long time before we actually were setting foot in the specialist’s office.  Many things were going through my mind that morning, but one strange thought kept surfacing for me: this receptionist has a really hard job!
       The first realization I had about this was walking up to the receptionist’s window with my wife.  My grimaced face must have looked like I had just drunk some sour milk because the lovely receptionist seemed to pause, give me time, and then smile gently towards me.  It was only then that I realized I was not exactly projecting excitement in being there!  The tricky thing for the receptionist, though, was that she welcomed patients who were coming to see either a regular OBGYN or the prenatal specialist.  The former group likely came in happy to be there, ready for some ultrasonic pictures of their little one or perhaps the big reveal as to whether a girl or boy was on the way.  The latter group, those coming to see the specialist, would not be projecting the same feelings as the first.  Their appearances were likely much more apprehensive, fearful, and uncertain.  I found myself drawn towards watching the patients arrive to the waiting room and trying to ascertain the group to which each person belonged.  The receptionist had to be ready to welcome all sorts of people, including some who would rather be anywhere else than this office.
       Mercifully, this was a one-time trip for our family, but I could not stop thinking about the experience in the days that followed.  This office reminded me, in many ways, of the Catholic Church.  Some people arrive at our parish doors excited to be there, hungry to deepen their faith and find solace for the week’s troubles.  Others arrive, perhaps feeling forced to come due to some familial obligation.  We see this situation most often surrounding events such as weddings, funeral Masses, or other sacramental moments.  Sometimes, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for us, as representatives of the Catholic Church, to make a good first impression.  Hospitality is a mark of godliness throughout Sacred Scripture, but it does beg the question: how do we, as a worshiping community, show hospitality to the sinner, the broken, the bereaved, the un-churched, the skeptic, and to the ones we have wounded?  It seems important to me that we think about these questions before making our first impressions so that we might share the Good News by how we welcome others.
       At some point in our lives, each of us has probably been part of the group who does not want to be in a church for a variety of reasons, and we certainly all have family members or friends who have stepped away from an active practice of their faith.  What might the receptionist’s demeanor teach us about welcoming those who come through our parish doors or even simply know us from work or our neighborhoods?  One thing this particular receptionist was very skilled at was reading people’s faces and demeanor but also realizing that there was a greater, sometimes unknowable mystery within the person.  Knowing this, I would say it is important to pray to the Holy Spirit for guidance when making a first impression on behalf of the Church.  What we say or refrain from saying, do or avoid doing could be critical in helping someone find the deeper relationship with God for which we all long.  Overall, I think the Church does a wonderful job of welcoming others, but we can always reexamine our personal part to play in this.  Being the voice, the hands, and the face of Christ to others is a real part of each of our vocations, and we must be conscious of our first impressions so that the Body of Christ might one day count all of humanity as its members and have all of its members reunited.